


Everything Comes Crashing Down

by blairgeorgina



Category: Black Monday (TV)
Genre: 5 months ago, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Monday, M/M, Politics, THE HARRIS CHILDREN :-), Unhappy Ending, blair breakdown, election, i wrote this like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blairgeorgina/pseuds/blairgeorgina
Summary: Roger wins the election and finds out about the "real Blair"; Blair breaks down and confides in Mo.
Relationships: Blair Pfaff & Dawn Darcy, Blair Pfaff & Mo Monroe, Blair Pfaff/Roger Harris, Corkie Harris & Roger Harris
Kudos: 9





	Everything Comes Crashing Down

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. this is a long time coming. a long. LONG LONG time coming. my blair breakdown fic that has been in the works since june !! i wrote it, wrote it again, tried to edit it, and then realized i'll probably never finish it so here it is! sorry for any mistakes or awkward parts... i just have to get it out.
> 
> (thanks to marvin and indigo for partly looking over this and helping me with it!!!)
> 
> ANYWAYS even though this is about the election (2x08 in the timeline), it is in no way related to that episode. it's completely canon divergent. so, nothing about outing, suicide, etc. 
> 
> i hope u guys enjoy even though it's unfinished !! hopefully i'll have a finished fic done soon <3

“I have to go now, you know, Tiff and the kids. They’re probably driving her crazy!” Corkie says, kissing Roger and smiling wide. 

It is election night, and Roger Harris just got elected into another term in the House of Representatives. He thanked Corkie in his speech… and he saw Blair’s face when he thanked her. But it is not his fault, she is his wife. Blair Pfaff is not his wife.

“I have to do some things first, but I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He pushes her hair to the side to kiss her forehead. He does love Corkie, just not in the way everyone thinks he does. He loves spending time with her and she is the only person in his life who he knows will never change. Except Blair, but he is different. Blair is so much different than anyone he has ever met. He is funny, caring, and smart. But, maybe not so much lately. Roger has been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Blair keeps on trying to do things with him in public. On Halloween in front of Corkie, and tonight in front of her and all the people that Roger’s job depends on; mostly his campaign team and her father, Pastor Newell Swafford.

“Hey, Congressman. Say, why don’t we, you know, go into my office.” Blair says from behind him and Roger rolls his eyes, turning around. Blair is bouncing around on the balls of his feet and gesturing to his office.

“That is a great idea, Pfaff. I actually do have something I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh, you have to talk about something really bad.” Blair lowers both his eyebrows and his voice. 

“Yes, Blair. I have to talk about something urgent. Can we just go?” Roger says like it is a question but immediately starts to make his way to Blair’s office anyways. He walks fast, waving and making small conversation, Blair struggling to keep up with him. He holds the door open for Blair and walks in. He looks down at Blair after closing it. He leans in for a kiss but Roger stops him.

“Blair, the blinds.” They are wide open. Blair nods, immediately going to fix them. “I don’t mean talk in the way that you mean talk.”

“Well, what the fuck does that mean? The way that I mean to talk.” Blair says, not even looking in Roger’s direction. He is either actually struggling to make sure the entire window is covered, or he is doing it on purpose so as to not have to face Roger.

“I mean sex, Blair. And you know that.”

“You just act so condescending to me all the time. And it’s tiring, okay? I am tired… of you.” He yanks at the blinds again, groaning and then giving up. He grumbles and crosses his arms, finally facing Roger. He still does not look at him. Roger, who has not moved from the door, keeps his eyes on him the entire time, though.

“That is not true! And I know that’s not true because- because you always insist on flirting with me in front of my wife!” Roger over exaggerates his mouth movements. He has only shifted his gaze from Blair once, waiting to see what he will do. That is the thing; he does not know, and that makes his stomach feel sick. His hands start to feel full of pine needles. 

“Well, I’m sorry for wanting affection, Roger! For once in my life!” Finally looking directly at Roger, Blair exaggerates his mouth the same way. Roger tries not to let Blair obviously mocking him change the course of the conversation.

“You are allowed to want affection, but that doesn’t excuse wanting to kiss me in public! I’m sorry that I, apparently, care about my reputation more than you do about yours!” His voice is full and loud now. He does not want anyone to hear, but he wants Blair to know that he is upset. He, too, is tired of this. Whatever Blair is doing, has done, or will do to him. It does not make sense, why would there be any reason for Blair to do any of this other than “wanting affection”? 

“You’re a Congressman! It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Blair screams, a complete shift from his last sentence. It makes Roger even more sick to his stomach, and an ache starts to grow in the back of his throat. He is not one to cry, especially not cry in front of people who he likes; loves, even.

“What the hell are you even talking about?” He is also not one to swear, a habit he picked up from Corkie when they first started dating. Now, he does not swear in front of anyone. Blair must have made fun of it once or twice, because he swears a lot. He says “fuck” excessively, but sometimes Roger wonders if he were in the same situation if he would swear that much too. He has learned that their relationships with their wives are very different.

He starts to think about their history as romantic partners. He thinks about the little things. Not little as in they do little, romantic things for one another. More like how little romantic things they have done together. Roger can not name a single time he took the chance to get to know Blair and have a conversation. Get to be able to make him laugh without it being in a sexual situation. Like, you know, boyfriends do. Sometimes Roger forgets that Blair is his boyfriend, which is bad on its own.

“They don’t care about me! They don’t care about me the same way they care about you!” Blair flaps his hand at his side for a second then brings it up to bite at his nails. “Wow, well… that is just not true” is what Roger wants to say, but of course, he does not. He has manners. More than Blair does, anyways.

“You are a public figure in the same way that I am! Playgirl, Jets, Hot Jets! Do those things mean nothing to you?” He knows he has a folded up cover of one of those fucking covers in his wallet, but it feels useless in this situation. He already knows he was in those magazines and he already knows that you keep them in your wallet.

“They don’t! Because they don’t see me as a trader on Wall Street, they see me as some fucking, hot piece of meat!” Roger thinks for a second about how ungrateful Blair must be for not caring, but he understands. Blair has been under a lot of pressure for awhile now, but not even for his job, mostly. Everyone expects him to look and act a certain way, and he knows how that feels. 

“Well, I don’t know what to say to you, Blair.” This is true, although he is thinking about something to say. He is not sure about how to say what he feels in the right way. 

“Well, I know what to say! You’re being a dickhead! I think that you think you’re better than me! Because you’re some hot, successful congressman and I’m a criminal!” Blair’s voice tapers towards the end, like he is going to cry. He blinks hard a couple of times. A criminal? No way, Blair Pfaff, who knows nothing about golf or how to even speak to his wife, is a criminal? It is a weird thought to think about, so Roger immediately decides that it is not true.

“You are not a criminal! I’m not sure if I’m even… hearing you right.” Blair looks paler than ever, bringing his hand up to bite at it again. Roger is not yelling anymore, he does not think he has the strength to. He is tired and upset, and he does not want to waste anymore of his energy fighting with the first person he thinks he has ever truly loved despite not knowing them.

“You are hearing me right, okay? I caused Black Monday!” Blair is still yelling. He is loud and it is making Roger’s head hurt. 

“You did not, Blair. You are lying to me right now. I don’t time for this, you know I’m on a tight schedule.” Not knowing what else to do, Roger starts to try and slow down his breathing like Blair is not even there. He unclenches his jaw, lowers his shoulders, and closes his eyes if even for a moment.

“You’re doing it again! You never believe me! And you’re blowing me off, again!” There are tears streaming down his face, ones that he wipes away quickly. He takes his palms and digs them into his eyes. 

So what the fuck do I do now? Roger knows he can not hug Blair, or say “It’s okay!”, “It’s going to be okay!”, or “I love you.” (even though he truly believes he does). Nothing he does can make this right, and he still does not know what to say.

“I’m sorry, Blair.” Roger’s voice cracks and the aching gets even more painful in his throat.

They are still in their same positions as before, about seven feet apart. Roger wants nothing but to hug Blair and fall asleep together, like they always do. He wants to lie on his back while Blair’s head is on his chest, and they feel like everything is going to be okay. Roger knows this will not happen because the door suddenly opens.

“Congressman Harris, we’ve been looking for you. We are going to have to figure out when you are going to D.C. next month.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He looks back at Blair, who is furious with tears running down his face. He does not wipe them away, but he maintains eye contact with Roger. “We can go out into the hallway.”

“I’ll come too.” Blair says, lowering his voice and starting to walk towards the door.

“Pfaff.” Roger stands in front of him immediately, their faces close. Blair tries to move past, but Roger starts to mimic him so he can not leave.

“Just kidding. I have to go home. To my wife. Asshole.” 

“Blair.” Roger says, giving Blair a stern look and changing his tone of voice from before. 

“Fuck you!” Blair pushes past Roger and his campaign managers, who open their mouths in shock. Blair Pfaff cussing out the Congressman? That will definitely be in some sort of paper tomorrow; but considering Blair’s other actions, he does not care.

“Give me a minute? Just this once.” They give him a nod of approval and he shuts the door.

Roger sniffles and rubs his hands on his dress pants. He looks around the office for a moment, noticing that he has never really looked at it before (probably because he has never really seen it). Half of the office is full of things that are presumably Tiff’s, which is confusing considering they have their own house with space for her. The other half is Blair’s, with only his desk and the things on it. His phone, papers that need to be signed, his computer, and two framed pictures. 

One of them is Blair and Tiff, younger and wearing clothes they probably would never wear now. Blair has red glasses on, looking a way Roger has never seen before. Tiff’s hair is longer and differently styled. He picks up the picture frame to get a better look. There are a lot of things he does not know about Blair, but he laughs at the fact that he did not even know that Blair wears or wore glasses. Or that he would let his hair look like that in public. 

He forces himself to put the picture down where it was before. Roger should not think about how much he does not know about Blair. It is not like he is going to learn anything new about him.

The other picture is of Blair and Yassir (he thinks). It looks like they are at a club of some sort. Blair looks happy, if not definitely high. He moves on from the second picture quickly; he can not make himself look at it for more than a few seconds. Roger tears up again.

He lets out a sigh after standing for a while, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket. He picks out two things: the magazine cover and the… “dickture”. Roger almost laughs at how ridiculous it is to be getting upset over these things. He definitely has magazines with Blair on them at home, and he definitely could do without the other picture. But it is something that Blair gave him, although it has been folded up in his wallet for months. There is a trash can sitting right next to him, but Roger does not move. He can not throw them away, as embarrassing as it may be for him. He just puts them back in their safe place, sighs, and walks out of Blair’s office. He only looks back once to close the door. 

He completely forgets about his campaign managers, suddenly scared that he took too long. He adjusts his suit jacket and nods.

-

Roger approaches the door to the apartment with his key already in hand. He tries to turn the knob first, using his key after he finds that it is locked. He steps in as carefully as he can, not wanting to disturb Corkie or the kids. He barely closes the door behind him when he hears a scream and feels a hug from behind.

“I’m so proud of you, dad.” Roger chuckles. He can tell it is Nicole, one of his and Corkie’s twin daughters. Roger turns around to bend over and give her a hug after she lets go. She is a lot shorter than him so he has to bend over a lot. 

“Old man. Can you even bend over that far without breaking your back, old man?” His other daughter, Elizabeth, says and then joins the hug. She is taller than Nicole, but still short. 

“Nicole! Do not call your father old!” Corkie calls from her place in the kitchen area. Roger guesses that she is making tea as she normally does. She says it is to help her sleep but Roger believes it is because she likes to put way too much sugar in it. But, to Roger, any amount of sugar is too much. He peaks up from the hug to shoot her a glance. She is leaning up against the counter and looking directly at him. Elizabeth and Nicole disband the hug soon after, still looking up at their dad.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, dad. You’re not old.” 

“It’s fine, Nicky. Me and your mother know I’m old anyways.” He exaggerates an eye roll and a laugh in front of them, patting both of them on their backs. Roger looks back up at Corkie, who is still looking at him.

“Elizabeth and Nicole, you should be in bed by now! What are you doing still up?” He does not break eye contact with his wife while saying this, and tries to communicate across the room with only his facial expressions. 

“Oh no, the full names! We better be heading to bed, Elizabeth.” Nicole says in a sarcastic tone; but they head to bed anyways, chatting away immediately and laughing to one another. Roger quickly remembers how exhausted he is, only the very faint noise of water boiling and the typical noise of a night in New York City in the background. 

“I was a little worried about you. You took so long.” She is not facing him now, but instead the stove where the kettle is.

“Something came up with Blair; I am sorry, Mother.” Roger takes his jacket off and hangs it up, looking around. For some reason, he feels awkward now; he feels awkward talking to his own wife in his own home. Maybe that is what being closeted and breaking up with your boyfriend does to you. Roger has never experienced it before.

“It’s okay, Tiff said Lizzie and Nickie were good this time.” Corkie is still turned, but she is not doing anything. Why is everyone avoiding looking at him tonight? It is weird and it is making him uncomfortable.

“Is that not normally the case? Are they normally bad?” Roger tries to lighten the awkward tone, chuckling a little bit through his words. He slowly walks around their dining and living area so as to not have to face Corkie so soon. He looks at the pictures that he has looked at hundreds of times before; running his hand along the table that he has sat at numerous times for meals. It is like he has to learn everything over again, even though to Corkie, his kids, and everyone except Blair, nothing is different. 

“No, I hope not. I hope Tiff wouldn’t lie to me.” He hears, still from across the apartment. Roger finally makes his way to the kitchen, where Corkie now has two mugs sitting on the counter, presumably full of tea. 

He notices a stack of magazines on the island in the middle of the space. Walking up to see it closer, he notices that it is Blair’s Jets cover. He does not know why it is there, or why Corkie is reading about jets, but it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He suddenly feels anxious and like he is going to pass out from exhaustion.

“Why is this here?” He picks it up, showing it off to her. 

“I don’t remember, why? Do you need it?” Corkie says and offers him one of the mugs, which he waves off. She looks disappointed, immediately looking away and placing it back on the counter.

“I’m just going to take it to our room. Having the girls seeing it would be weird.” Roger shows the magazine again and then puts it to his side. He looks down, noticing how the next magazine in the stack is also one with Blair’s face on it. Of course it is the one that calls him a “Jizz Kid”. Picking up the magazines one by one, he notices that every single one is something Blair is in or on the cover of. Roger’s eyes widen but he does not say anything, only taking the stack into his arms.

“Probably should have done that a while ago. They have definitely seen it by now.” Corke is not facing him anymore. He thinks she is looking out the window, which is not that good of a view because it is dark and they are in New York City.

“Sorry, I’m just tired. I’m sorry.” Roger says, leaning himself and the stack of magazines against the island for a second, awaiting a response.

“Go get ready for bed. Love you.” He mumbles a response before quickly walking out and down the hallway. He decides to set the magazines in a corner near the room instead of actually in it. His and Corkie’s room is too cluttered as it is and he cannot think right now.

Roger flops face first onto the bed almost the second he gets into the room, exhausted. He turns over so he is facing the ceiling and closes his eyes. A moment alone is something he hasn’t had in awhile, with his wife, twin girls, a career in politics, and a rambler-boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend, but it doesn’t matter. His shoes are still on, which normally would bother him because he is inside but while his eyes are closed he can already feel himself start to fall asleep. 

Corkie calls Roger from down the hall. He groans, opening his eyes with a bit of struggle. He turns his head and looks at the clock. It’s not even that late! What the hell. He also sees a picture of Corkie, him, and the kids. 

“Yeah!” He just barely yells out, sitting himself up and taking off his shoes. He doesn’t know where to put them without getting up, so he settles on putting them near the edge of the bed on the hardwood floor. Corkie walks in, closing the door and walking over to her vanity. She takes off her jewelry, taking a glance at Roger in the mirror.

“I need to talk to you about something.” She sighs, fixing her hair and looking at him again.

“Mother, can we talk about the election tomorrow? I’m really...” He flops back down into the position he was in before, lightly kicking his legs where they’re dangling off the side of the bed

“Father, it’s not about the election. I wanna talk about Tiff. You met her right?” Roger makes a noise in agreement. Corkie moves towards the bed and lays down next to him. 

“Okay…” She shushes him even after he has already trailed off. 

“We spent a lot of time together at the TBD Group’s Halloween party--and some time after that--and I-I-I don’t know…” Roger can hear her smile through her words. He closes his eyes again, what is going on? Where is she even going with this? “I think I like her, you know, in a way that I’ve never liked anyone.”

“What.” He doesn’t say it as a question, and his eyes are wide open now. She kisses his cheek before getting up, probably to change into clothes more suitable for bed.

“I think there was something else… oh! Is there something going on with you and Blair Pfaff?” 

“What do you mean?” Roger almost sits up just because of how out of the blue that question was. He does not know what he would do if she somehow found out. 

“You just seem really sad. I know he makes you really happy, I just don’t know if something happened between you two after I left.” She walks from her dresser to her vanity while speaking, but Roger is not sure why. Whether it is to give her something to do or if she just can not find clothes.

“I like him a lot, too. Like you and, uh, Tiff. But, I had to cut things off. If things were different maybe we could be okay, but…” He trails off, looking over at her but still lying down. Corkie finally makes her way over to her side of the bed, getting under the covers. 

“Well, we’ll get through it. Maintaining a steady friendship is hard. You know, I heard this thing at...” She looks down at him. A steady friendship. Which, yes, is hard to maintain but Roger did not know they were talking about Tiff and Blair as friends. The way she was describing Tiff sounds nothing like a friend, and Roger knows that Blair is not his friend. 

He has to keep on reminding himself that Blair will hardly ever be anything to him anymore. Maybe he is being dramatic, but there is something about Blair saying the words “Fuck you!” to him that he feels like they can not come back from. They never had a fight like that, their issues being resolved with easy communication. Maybe it was just an issue with that. Maybe they will just meet up like they usually do, Blair will say it was just a temper thing--or a communication thing--and everything will be okay again.

He completely zones her out from that moment on, hearing words like “church” and different women’s names. He can not stop thinking about Blair, how he made him feel, that he might not see him again. the look on Blair’s face when he screamed at him and cried in front of his campaign team. That Corkie thinks her and Tiff are friends, and that Blair and Roger are just friends who had a fight and fell out.

-

Blair runs out; the room that was filled before is almost empty now. The balloons still there and the TV still on. He sees Dawn at the edge of the room, exactly the direction that he has to go. He is planning on going to the bathroom but he is not sure why. His thoughts are all mixing together, he is sweating more than he ever has, and he has tears streaming down his face. He quickly approaches her, trying to turn his face away to avoid her noticing him.

“Blair, are you okay? Where are you going?” Dawn was leaning up against the wall, but now she has gotten closer to him.

“To the bathroom! Or home, I haven’t decided yet.” Blair says, still not facing Dawn. This might be even worse considering he can still see Roger from this angle. He is talking to his campaign team and then goes back into Blair’s office. Asshole. He gets lost in trying to look through the windows; trying to see what Roger is doing in there. 

“Blair, look at me.” Dawn says and Blair does not know if that is the first time she said it or if she was repeating it. Either way, it breaks Blair out of his staring. He turns to face her, almost jumping back when he sees how close she is. She can probably see everything, from Blair’s shaking body to his tear-stained and tired eyes. “What’s going on? Is it something with Roger?”

That was not something he expected her to ask. It has been awhile since they have gone more than ten seconds without arguing about something. Maybe he is the problem. Blair gets into fights with people so often that for just a moment he entertains the fact that it may be his fault.

“It’s nothing about Roger, Dawn. I have to piss!” He lowers the pitch of his voice. It is something he tends to do, specifically in situations where he feels threatened or like he has someone to impress. Dawn looks up at him, her expression getting more sour. 

“Then just fucking go! I feel like this is going to end badly if you keep on talking to me.” She yells the first part but then her voice gets softer. Blair looks into her eyes, which are way softer than they were before. She keeps eye contact, like she is trying to communicate with him.

“Thank you. Have a good day- night! See you at work!” Blair says while walking towards the hallway, raising his hand to wave goodbye.

So where the fuck to now? He is not sure if he actually wants to go to the bathroom or not. These days he gets mixed up between when he is lying or not; lying being something that has become second nature to him. 

He starts down the hallway, trying to remember where the bathroom is in his panicked state. He feels like he is walking for awhile, and almost turns to retrace his steps when--

“What the hell? Blair?” It’s Mo, just what he needed. Just what Blair fucking needed right fucking now. “Are you okay?”

Blair does not even hesitate before he starts shaking his head and new tears start rolling down his face. Mo mumbles a “come here” before he takes Blair’s arm and starts to punch the code into what looks like the Record Room. Well this is not going to help either. He starts to remember the Halloween party and feel even more awful. He remembers the party, then he remembers when he met Corkie for the first time on the golf course. He feels so bad, remembering when he thought he was helping Roger. At least at the party when he flirted with him in front of her. 

A plan that he thought was so well thought out ended how he thought it would, just not how he planned it would go down. 

Mo pulls on Blair’s arm, almost making him stumble forward. He realizes Mo is trying to take him into the room and walks in. Now actually in the room, Blair does not know what he is supposed to do. He crosses his arms and then brings one hand up to start biting at his nail. Mo looks up at him, waiting for him to say something. Give some explanation as to why he is so upset. 

“So?” Mo crosses his arms too and tilts his head.

“No, I am not okay, Mo.” His voice cracks despite him knowing that Mo already knows that he is not okay. Saying it did feel good, though. Crying also feels good, but only if it is not in front of Roger. God, he hates crying in front of Roger.

“I know that. I actually already asked you that, Blair. That’s why we’re in here, isn’t it?” Blair is getting angry even though Mo has not done anything that should make him angry. Everything Mo does makes him upset; everything right now makes him upset, actually. 

“Yeah, and you wanna know why I’m not okay, Mo? Because of you; because you turned me into a fucking monster. Blair Pfaff, ‘fucking girls name or whatever’, worst person in the world!” Maybe it feels good to yell, too. Not yell just because Blair wants to in the moment, but because he has wanted to for over a year. He is sick of letting people push him around and he is tired. 

“You still remember that?” Mo says defensively. He looks to the side for a moment while Blair still holds eye contact with him. Blair nods and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, because it’s the day you start using me, and taking advantage of me, and started stealing my girlfriend’s money.” Blair has always been one to hold grudges and remember specific things from years go. He can still see Mo making fun of both his name and him. He remembers when he found out Mo was playing him, and when he figured out he was taking advantage of his lack of a father figure. He almost wants Mo to feel absolutely awful for this. He wants to vent to him, but also make Mo feel like a piece of shit.

“Girlfriend’s…” He trails off, shaking his head lightly.

“Who fucking cares, Mo? Who fucking cares. The only person I have ever truly loved romantically just broke up with me. So why am I talking to you when I could be at home, weeping.” Blair yells but shows little to no emotion at the end. He does not want to remember him and Roger, ever. Who cares if what happened, happened twenty minutes ago. Blair is ready to move on.

Or he thinks he is. He does not want to feel the hurt, or face the reality. That he missed an opportunity to know Roger instead of just running around with him. He says romantic, says he loves (loved?) Roger romantically but that is not true. Blair knows he thinks he knows Roger more than he actually does. 

“Roger? Why did he break up with you?” 

“Wow, that’s really condescending, Mo. It’s like you already know.” Blair says using a sarcastic tone and clicking his tongue. Mo rolls his eyes and lowers his eyebrows in response.

“Okay, first of all why would I care enough to spy on you and the Congressman, asshole? Second of all, I wasn’t being condescending or sarcastic in any way. I’m trying to help you, kid.” He moves his hands around the entire time, hoping he still is not still coming off as sarcastic or mean. Okay, maybe mean, but he hopes not too much. Blair turns around and leans against the filing cabinet near the door. He whispers “fuck” to himself. Blair wants to let his guard down but cannot. He wants to be able to tell Mo exactly what is going on, even if he does not completely trust him. Again, it feels good to vent; venting is not something Blair has the option to do often.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that people aren’t always out to get or make fun of me. Especially people who have done that before.” He shakes his head to himself, already breaking down from shame inside from his words. Just be nice! God, you have done it before! 

Blair finds himself so caught up in being scared that everyone he knows is going to hurt him that he forgets people care about what he has to say. Some people care about his feelings and he should open up to them. Even if it is once, or a million times.

“So what did you do?” Mo says after a while. Blair can hear his foot tapping against the floor.

“Well, if you’re talking about everything, then I’ve committed financial terrorism that killed thousands of people, created a Ponzi scheme, stolen insider information, um. I can’t think, but there’s more.” Blair counts on his fingers for emphasis, even though he knows Mo can not see them. 

“About Roger. I’m not trying to ask what crimes you’ve committed, I already know that shit.” Mo stands next to him even though he has nothing to lean on like Blair does. Mo looks up at him, and he is biting at his nails again.

“Oh, I created an elaborate plan that consisted of me being… let’s say... flirty with him in public so that he would break up with me and wouldn’t find out I’m a criminal.” Blair takes his hand from his mouth and hangs his head in shame. He sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. A couple of sobs echo from him.

“Holy shit, okay. Well, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mo smiles at Blair but he can not see it. Embarrassed, he stops smiling immediately and looks around the room.

“I love him, oh my God. What have I done, Mo? I love him!” Blair smacks a hand on the filing cabinet which directs Mo’s attention back to him. Blair looks down with sad eyes while Mo looks up with wide ones. 

“You had good intentions?” He gives an awkward smile again and shrugs. Blair launches his body towards Mo, hugging and almost pushing him over. Blair starts to sob widely, it is almost gross. 

“I love him!” Blair says but it is muffled in Mo’s suit jacket. He is bent over, which is not comfortable or even practical. Mo thinks about all the spit that is going to be on his expensive suit after this.

“I know, buddy. I know.” He pats Blair on the back, not wanting to make him more upset. Mo is on the tips of his toes, Blair picking him off the ground in his hug. He continues to rub Blair’s back hoping it will do something. Almost muffled in Blair’s own suit, he says, “Now, why don’t you try to get him back? You can just explain your intentions right?”

“He knows I caused Black Monday.” Blair backs out of the hug, confused but not showing it with words. He blinks hard a couple times, trying to get the tears out. Instead of lightly wiping the tears away, he brings his palms to his face to get all of them at once.

“Just explain that you were going through shit when that happened.” Mo shrugs once again, and, oh no, he has said the wrong thing again. Blair lowers his eyebrows, scoffing and putting his hand in his jacket to find his cigarettes. He definitely needs a smoke right now. Or a drink. He finally finds them, taking out his lighter too.

“A sexuality crisis is not an excuse for global financial terrorism!” Blair’s words get slightly muffled as he puts a cigarette in his mouth and cups his hands around it to light it.

“You could try?” Blair scoffs again, but still offers the cigarette to Mo. He declines. Blair blows smoke up into the air, slightly laughing and smiling to himself at it. He looks back down at Mo, who is giving him a death stare. Blair does not know where to put his cigarette, so he gives it to Mo.

“No! I have to leave, oh my God. Thank you for this, by the way, but I can’t. I think I’m just going to give up thinking about Roger for now. Goodbye, see you at work.” He looks around to see if he is leaving anything there (nothing except for the cigarette that Mo is holding and will not do anything with). He turns on his heel, punching the code into the door, and walks down the hall. Blair almost immediately lets out a sigh, relaxing his body but starting to realize what just happened. Not even what just happened, what has happened during this entire fucking night. He is glad that it is over.

\- 

The next morning, Blair comes into work and immediately rushes to his office. He is on time, but Dawn notices his changes in appearance before he makes it to his office and locks the door. His hair is done messily (or not done at all), and he’s not wearing a jacket or suspenders. Having no jacket is weird because it is almost the middle of November, and having no suspenders is weird because it is Blair. How is he supposed to hold up his pants? It is making Dawn feel bad just thinking about it. Blair is going to be cold and his pants are going to fall down.

“Did you talk to him last night? He seemed really…” Dawn walks up to Mo, who is leaning up against one of the desks. She waves her arms around, not sure what to say. Blair seemed really like a lot of things. A lot of the time it is hard to tell what he is thinking. Dawn, along with people at the office, noticed that Blair would often not show much emotion, only hiding away in his office or yelling if he was upset. Though, Dawn knew something was building up, and last night she thought that there was something that was too much. Something that pushed Blair over the edge.

“Fucked? Yes, Dawn, I did talk to him.” Maybe fucked is not exactly the word Dawn was looking for, but it works. Nonetheless, Mo is right, Blair did seem really fucked. Both last night and just now. 

“About what?”

“You never asked about what, only if I talked to Blair; which I did.” Mo crosses his arms, looking at Blair’s office door instead of at Dawn.

“Tell me.” Dawn’s eyebrows lower, and she also crosses her arms. 

“No.” Mo stops leaning on the desk, straightening out his jacket and starting to walk away. He does have to do work too.

“He’s so sad that he didn’t put suspenders on this morning, Mo. We have to do something. You have to tell me.” Dawn calls when Mo’s back is facing her. He stops and then turns around on his heel. Dawn looks down at him with a suggestive face as he walks towards her again. It was almost laughable how fast she got him to come back.

“Fine, I ran into him--” Mo overexaggerates his facial expression, using a tone that is almost flirty. 

A scream comes from Blair’s office; shocking Dawn, Mo, and everyone else in the room. They all look around, wondering if they should do something. Blair is their boss, maybe crude and a literal criminal, but still! Dawn looks at Mo with wide eyes and then straightens her shirt out. She walks towards his office, not looking anywhere but forward.

“Blair--” Dawn leans her forehead on the door; it makes a thumping noise. 

“No, I haven’t signed those papers yet!” He yells back with an unusually deep tone. Dawn is scared of being intrusive, but at the same time, Blair is obviously going through something and she has to help him. As his partner at TBD and as a friend. Maybe their friendship is not the strongest, and maybe they have had issues with each other in the past--and recently--, but they are friends. 

“I don’t give a fuck about the papers right now, just, can I come in? I’m worried about you… as a friend, not a co-worker.” Her hand is on the doorknob even though she knows it is locked. 

“Fine.” She hears something that is probably a chair moving and Blair walking over to the door. He opens it, adjusting his glasses. He is wearing glasses today. God, that means this is bad. Blair never wears his glasses. Dawn is shocked for a beat, and then she smiles up at him. She comes in and they get adjusted, Blair sitting behind the desk and Dawn sitting at one of the chairs in front of it.

“I’m here, Blair, as a friend.” She reaches for his hand from across the desk, Blair seeing it but looking away.

“You already said that. It’s okay, I’m sorry.” He goes to touch her hand, but it is not there. Blair coughs, starting to tap his fingers against the desk. 

“Are you okay? Me, Mo, and everyone else out there is worried about you.” Dawn says after a while. Blair avoids her eyes, so she takes a moment to look around the room. She has done this countless times before, being in his office often. She is sad looking at the mannequins that she knows are Tiff’s. She feels so sad for what she did to Georgina, and she knows Blair does not feel the same. Dawn lets her mind ramble for a second, wondering why Blair never cared about what he did to Tiff and Georgina. 

“Worried about me.” Blair scoffs and sniffles. Dawn looks at him with sad eyes. 

“Yeah, you’re dressed differently. You didn’t say hi to anyone… you rushed into your office. You’re really important to the people here, Blair.” She gets up and walks around the desk. She puts a hand on the back of Blair’s chair, looking down. Blair sighs when she points out his pictures with Tiff and Yassir. 

“I’m not joking! What happened last night?” Dawn spins the chair around to face her and for a moment, their eyes meet.

“Roger broke up with me.” Blair goes to get up but Dawn is standing in front of him with her arms next to his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You know, you don’t have to be here right now.” She recoils to the window and Blair gets up almost immediately. 

“No, that’s not true. I have to, um, figure out what the fuck I’m- we’re gonna do about this bank bailout.” He walks around for a bit, not going on any set route. He runs his hands along the curtains in the front of the room and walks over to Tiff’s side.

“Boss! How’s it going?” Keith busts through the door and Blair stops, turning around. He feels the need to yell, but freezes instead.

“Keith, get the fuck out!” Dawn yells for him, pointing towards the door. Keith mouths a little “woah!” and puts one of his hands up (the other is holding a mug).

“What- what the fuck do you want?” 

“Mo told me you wanted me to talk to me. I don’t know why.” Keith’s words are muffled by the mug as he takes a sip. 

“Dawn, are we done here?” Blair looks at her and wipes his hands on his pants. He starts to walk over to his desk, inviting Keith to sit down.

“I am if you are. I have to… work on something with Mo anyways I think.” She waves goodbye and pushes past Keith who is still standing at the door.

“So…” Blair gestures for Keith to sit down again. He nods, closing the door behind him and walking over.

“What?” Keith says after he sits down. There is a moment of silence and confused looks between them.

“I don’t have anything to talk to you about.” Blair looks at him with a straight face, starting to bite at the inside of his mouth. 

“Maybe we should stall so Mo doesn’t get mad at me.” He whispers even though there is no way anyone else can hear them. 

“Mo isn’t your boss anymore.” Blair says in such a quiet voice that it is almost incoherent. He leans forward to make sure that Keith gets all of it.

“Okay… maybe I just wanted to talk to you about something?” He leans back in his chair and almost puts his legs up on the desk before Blair gives him a warning look. 

“Why didn’t you just say that? What the fuck, Keith?” Blair starts to tap on the desk with both of his hands. Keith sits up straight in his chair and blinks a few times.

“I thought it would be suspicious or that Dawn would want to listen in, okay?” Keith starts to whisper again before Blair lowers his eyebrows at him.

“Just tell me.” Blair says quickly and with exaggeration on every word. 

“It’s about the congressman. I just wanted to warn you--” Keith traces his finger along the edges and dents in the desk as he looks down and up at Blair again.

“Too late, he already broke up with me. No warnings needed.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I went through something like that last year if you want to talk about it.” He pulls the mug up to his face again, drinking the rest of it and coughing. Blair starts to move his legs under the desk, unsure what to do because Keith coughs for a straight fifteen seconds.

“Just another one of my plans that backfired on me. I wanted to break up so that he wouldn’t get hurt because, you know, me. I don’t want him to get caught up in my mess, but it’s affecting me more than I thought it would.” Blair rests his face in his hand and sighs.

“I’m sorry, boss. Breakups of any kind are stressful, but I understand. Last year that’s what happened to me… he got caught up in my mess and now he’s in jail, so…” He starts to crack his knuckles, and Blair stares at his hands through one eye. 

“I’m sorry. Maybe that’s not the best thing to say considering it’s probably my fault.” Blair’s voice is muffled and tired. He feels like he could just rest his head on the desk and fall asleep immediately. Suddenly he is so tired for no reason… he was fine just a second ago. Blair closes his eyes and forgets that Keith is there without realizing.

“It’s… fine. Well, I gotta go now… let’s talk later, alright, boss?” Keith gets up out of his chair and leaves before Blair can answer. It feels weird to not say goodbye. 

Blair stays in that position for a while, almost falling asleep and then jumping awake. He feels okay in his tired state. Maybe they are not as different as Blair led himself to believe. They have gone through a lot of the same things, and they know exactly how the other feels. 

Maybe, to Blair, it is just weird to have someone to relate to.


End file.
